A Nib's Babble
by xybolic
Summary: Artemis Fowl flash fictions. These are mostly humourous anecdotes, written to accommodate my breeding plot bunnies. Chapter 31: "Artemis, mon ami, I am concerned."
1. Math

**One: Math**

_Calm down. _Calm_ down. You checked it thrice; there is no way you could be wrong, _I told myself. This was detrimental to my health, being a teacher in St. Bartleby's. If I hadn't been a poor, self-sufficient professor, I would've packed up and left this horror of a school. As it was, I _was_ a poor, self-sufficient professor, one who needed money to support my extravagant lifestyle. (I had always chastised myself for not watching over my expenses.) And only St. Bartleby's could provide me an ample amount of income.

And so, today, Monday, I strode down my classroom's centre aisle. I was the picture of placidity and coolness. However, that was only on the surface; inside me was a turmoil of agitation and, ridiculously enough, fear. The closer I got to that dreaded desk, the warmer the atmosphere seemed to be and the faster moisture seemed to trickle from my temple. The pad of assignments I held was beginning to dampen because of my sweating palm.

With a faux air of superiority and confidence, I stood in front of _the_ desk—Artemis Fowl's desk.

It took a lot of focus from me to keep my hand from shaking as I laid his almost-perfectly answered Mathematics assignment on his worktop. I then proceeded to the desk beside his. From my peripheral vision, I could see him glaring down at the huge, red mark of ninety-nine percent with the comment 'Very Good!' Needless to say, he was not pleased.

_He forgot to round it off. I'm sure he did, _I tried to convince myself. I had graduated with highest honours from the best university in Ireland, but this _mere_ child could make me doubt my own brilliance by just a few terse statements against the theorems I had been teaching the class.

Master Fowl's eyes narrowed. Surely not a good sign. My hand that was passing a failed assignment to his seatmate twitched. I waited for his long argument (one that would occasionally imply astounding ignorance on my part) to come with bated breath while running a few good—but would surely be flimsy, in his opinion—defences in my head. My heart pounded loudly.

Amazingly, nothing came. If I hadn't known better, I'd swear his cheeks were a tad bit tinged with pink.

I exhaled, swept over with utter relief. _Really_, this lad would be the death of me.

* * *

**A/N: This will be where I'd put my drabble/ficlet exercises. I had stopped writing for more than a year so my writing skill has become rusty (not that I was really great; just passable). I'll keep the coming chapters in five hundred words or less, since I can't do one hundred. The idea is from Artemis's interview in _Artemis Fowl Files. _Read it again. He said he was embarrassed. Mortified, even.=P**

**Hope you like it. Please review; constructive criticisms and suggestions—whether nice or mean—are welcome. English is not my first language so my phrasing may sound a bit awkward. Please tell me if it is, since I won't use betas with this project.;)**


	2. Pollination

**Two: Pollination**

Trouble was immensely worried. As galling his whiny brother might be, he still cared for Grub's well-being. The mental health, specifically.

_This is all Mummy's fault!_ he thought, digging the balls of his palms on either side of his forehead in frustration. At the corner of his eye, he could see Captain Holly Short and Foaly a few tables away from his, silently tittering. Sighing exasperatedly, he dared another glance on his brother who was sitting at the far corner of the spacious LEP canteen.

Grub Kelp was reading a book about botany with a potted flowering plant beside him. Nothing wrong about that, of course; fairies loved studying nature. But there was something amiss in this scholarly image projected by the Corporal. He was panting rather heavily and eyeing the plant with ferocious intensity. His brow even shone with moisture. The sight made Trouble cringe. He knew something the outside spectators, except for the only mirthful pair nearby, did not, and it was making him feel perturbed. He saw Grub looking up to catch his eye, grinning.

_Danu, oh goddess of the People, please, please..._

"Trubs!" Grub called all the way from across the room, making the hair at the back of Trouble's neck bristle. "The hibiscus is—is—it's _masturbating_, Trubs!"

There was a momentarily deafening silence. Many officers looked incredulous, mouths agape, and some unfortunate ones choked on their lunch. The elf-centaur tandem elevated their titters into loud guffaws, and was shortly joined by the rest. The Commander groaned, burying his face is hands. _The Kelp dignity..._ Mummy should _not_ have confiscated Grub's hidden magazine stash of scantily-clad elves. This was worse. _Way _worse.

"He _needs _to get laid," Holly managed to say between snorts, "and I'm not talking about landscapes and plants here."

* * *

**Because pollination is ****_porn_****. It's a very titillating experience for plants, and very sensual to watch. For Grub, at least. Idea came from my Botany class three years ago, when I was still a senior in high school. I had been playing with two hibiscus flowers, smashing them together, and squealing, 'OMG, it's porn!'**

**Please review. Nice/mean constructive criticisms welcome.;)**


	3. King's Cross

**Three: King's Cross**

A pawn to ensure my victory. That was what all you were to me.

But you were a defiant piece—someone not to be controlled. Before I knew it, it was not my game anymore.

A clever piece, weren't you? Often underestimated and ridiculed, but you responded with a sloping artifice. Each game we had played, you strived to turn into my rook, bishop, or knight, protecting me, never taking a step back. Either you couldn't or you actually wouldn't.

You were the life and soul of _our_ game.

This is our last, and I hope you become my queen.

* * *

**A/N: Actual one hundred words! That's a first! Got the idea from TTP's eleventh chapter and the chess analogy comment in Kitsune Heart's awesome fic, _In Another's Eyes_. (Hope she doesn't mind that I used her line as inspiration. Teehee.) Plus I love chess, though I haven't played anyone with an actual title of Master for three years.**

**Please review. As always, nice/mean constructive criticisms are welcome.**


	4. Professor

_For helping me polish this chapter, I'd like to thank my very lovely faux-Mum, Pea-chan. _

* * *

**Four: Professor**

Holly could only gape through her fingers, watching the horror unfold. She knew the boy had a twisted sense of humour… but _this_! This was taking things to an entirely new level. His huge brain short-circuited and finally drove him around the bend, she was certain of it—maybe karma's way of savagely gnawing on his rump for all his deviousness—but why did his punishment have to involve her? The mortified Captain had never seen the appeal of self-obliteration before, but right now she would very much love to shoot herself with a Softnose laser or stroll into Howler's Peak without any weapon.

She had been unconvinced when Artemis had gathered the LEP in a private assembly hall in the remotest place in Iceland to present a proposition to save the world from global warming while insanely committing his entire fortune to it. It was unbelievable. The word selfless had never been used to describe Artemis Fowl the Second. Until today. Not only that, he also seemed to be... _nice_?

All the same, she should've known that it was too good to be true. At the end of the lecture, Holly instantly demoted him from being a selfless fairytarian to a barmy nitwit.

_It's a bad dream. Wake up, Holly, and it will all disappear, _she thought, but to no avail; Artemis's next PowerPoint did not vanish in front of her eyes. The first slide featured two headshot photos of one brown-skinned, redheaded elf and one pale, dark-haired Mud Boy.

"Love is an abstract concept with a very complex meaning," he began in monotone. "It varies from one context to another. By and large, love is referred to as what one might feel for another person—a kind of emotion felt by every sentient being. Even me."

It was very overwhelming for Holly who was too stunned for speech. She was gobsmacked—unnerved—and she began to dread what his next words could be. Covering her elfin ears, she looked up at the towering man beside her with pleading eyes conveying a request for him to stop his master's madness. He looked back at her with a very foreign expression on his face: confusion. It was a sight to behold.

"—feeling of such type often goes unnoticed even to people with intellect as great as mine. It can be triggered by an impulsive act of intimacy between two parties—"

Holly could feel her colleagues's shocked stares, especially Foaly's, boring on her back but she kept on enforcing her silent plea on Butler.

"And now we proceed to our next topic: Osculation. Please refer to figure one for further understanding. The study of osculation dates back from the early twentieth century by one Ernest Crawley. It is the act of—"

"_Please_, Butler, stop him."

"Holly, I—" he managed to utter, flummoxed as he was, but he was interrupted by his principal's next words:

"If a certain female LEP officer, say, in Recon, kisses her mission partner, who is, as it is, a Mud Man..."

Holly sent a death glare in Artemis's direction that could've made even a bull troll keel over and cower in fear. But Artemis Fowl would not stop for _anyone_ in mid-lecture, not even for the very subject of the lecture he was delivering. He then proceeded to discuss the complexities of love for socially inept individuals, using himself as an occasional example.

"In conclusion: Captain Short, I love you."

If the circumstances were any different, she would've appreciated the genius's unique effort. _Probably_. But as of the moment, she was too busy engaging herself in afflictions of pain, letting her forehead make contact with the table surface in front of her with repetitive thuds.

* * *

**A/N: Credit for the conception of this idea goes to Kelsey (KelseyRainAtlantis in deviantART) and Dontmovethefilesevil from the AFC Forums. Based on Barnes & Noble's Atlantis Complex plot synopsis: '**_Symptoms include obsessive-compulsive behavior, paranoia, multiple personality disorder and, in extreme cases, embarrassing professions of love to a certain feisty LEPrecon fairy.'_

**This chapter is about six hundred words. I know I said I'd put up chapters in five hundred words or less, but with this, I couldn't. I tried to shorten it. Really, I did. I also couldn't split this in half because it wouldn't make sense. So here's it is.**

**Hope you enjoyed Artemis's lecture. Please review. Constructive criticisms are welcome.;)**


	5. Fount

**Five: Fount**

_"Many creatures contain an important pharmacopoeia and act as natural magic enhancers..."_

Foaly's words kept on ringing in Artemis Fowl's ears as he ran one long index finger along the Fowl library's vast collection of books. His brain was conceiving yet another brilliant plan. He knew this would work. In theory. All he needed were just a few more information and research, and, of course, his own magic.

He tapped the spine of a book triumphantly before pulling it out. He'd have to thank Misters Brooks and Rittenhouse for this exclusive copy sent to him. They even included a couple of handwritten findings they had not supplied the published print; although, he was fairly certain that they were under the impression that the one who had asked for their help was the famous Marine Biologist Marianne A. Traunche and not an underage genius.

"Holly…" he whispered, smirking. "I'll be your modern Ponce de León."

It was Holly's refusal to accept his rather embarrassing profession of love that had goaded his him to engage in this study.

With a tiny creak, the library door cracked open, letting Butler step inside. "Artemis, I called Graycliff Hotel for the reservations just as you instructed. When are we leaving?"

"After I send out the decoys I've provided for Foaly's entertainment, we'll depart at once."

* * *

**A/N: What is Artemis up to? I've inserted more than four clues in this chapter for your own research.**

**Review and I'll tell you the answer. But it'd be more fun if you try to find out first and then ask instead of directly asking me without any effort, don't you think? Constructive criticisms are appreciated.**


	6. Selfish

**Six: Selfish**

"Why did you save me in Hybras?"

The question caught Artemis off guard and made the triangle he had his hand pressed on jerk. He clicked his tongue softly in annoyance at the now crooked line on the Haven Memorial Chamber design proposal he and Holly had been working on by request of the Council (for a price, of course). Casual observers may not notice the mistake, but to his trained eyes, it was like a mountain—a vast bowl of Stinkworm juice, as the People might say.

"It never happened, Holly," he replied, straightening up on his stool and frowning at tracing paper in front of him. "And that was years ago. Why do you have to ask now?"

"_Why_, Artemis?" Holly persisted on her query, ignoring what he said. "You should've thought—_known_—that there _could_ be serious repercussions, but still, you... That's not you at all. It's… not selfish."

Raising an eyebrow, Artemis turned his head to the elf sitting on another stool beside his. "That's unnecessarily blunt of you."

"That's pathetically elusive of you."

"Do I need a reason?"

Tilting her head at an angle, Holly gave him a look that articulately expressed "duh".

"Well, what do you want me to tell you? That the reason I did it was because I plan on cruelly exploiting you in times to come? For my own gain?"

"No, I want you to tell me the truth."

"I am, as you put it, selfish, Holly," said Artemis, reaching out for the rubber at the corner his drafting table. He scowled; this ink rubber always thinned and deteriorated the quality of his papers. "I had decided to breach the fundamental laws of time and space for _myself_. I had my best interests at heart."

Holly bristled at his straightforward answer. "So you _do_ plan on using me again? Manipulating me? I thought—"

"Nice to hear your wonderful sentiments on me as a friend," Artemis interrupted her in a bored voice, as though immune to the negative opinions thrown at him. After a pause, he spoke in forced nonchalance: "But as I said, it was purely a selfish reason."

The Captain fumed, glaring up at him. When he did not even look back at her, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. He did not deny her accusations, _but _he did not assert them either; he simply said that he had a selfish reason. Maybe she was just furious that he had not given her the answer she expected… or wanted. "Fine," she said finally, crossing her arms. "_Fine_. It's not like I was expecting some sort of altruistic benevolence on your part."

Artemis did not answer, continuing with his drawing. _It was for my _emotional_ best interest. Against my better judgment._

* * *

"**...but to me, it's like a mountain—a vast bowl of pus." That's the original line and it came from Monty Python's Restaurant/Dirty Fork sketch.**

**Artemis is designing! And he's not using CAD/SketchUp/etc because I myself prefer doing it old-school; design details can be hardly shown in digital. I reckoned, as an art appreciator himself, he'd prefer doing the details on paper as well.**


	7. Trumped

**Seven: Trumped**

Always outdone by others. It infuriated her. First, the Nobel Prize, and now this. What was her genius for then?

Minerva had written a charming trilogy that should have held readers of all ages spellbound—a fantastical adventure in a world beyond any imagination could ever conceive. She had weaved tales of spine-tingling and epic heroism with an adequate touch of romance. It was a masterpiece that she knew would give her the title as the Best Author of the Decade.

But no, someone had to ruin it for her: A pathetically sappy romance novel author whose clichéd plots were worthy to be flushed down the bog followed by a revolting amount of excrements. She was vexed to hear that her rival's novels had been translated into more than a hundred languages, while hers remained to be read only by the French and English communities.

Now she would lose her bet with Butler. The man didn't even root for her victory and instead placed his confidence upon the very author who had been causing her such great displeasure. A wonderful friend he might be, but he loved getting her miffed.

And miffed, she was. The reportedly retired author had not written any of her ridiculous novel for more than three years! How could she even best _the_ Minerva Paradizo, a genius? No one, except Artemis Fowl, had ever proved to be better than her.

So _who_ was this Violet Tsirblou?


	8. Oh, Brother!

**Eight: Oh, Brother!**

Myles was a light sleeper. That was why when the specific floorboard in the centre of his and Beckett's bedroom creaked, he warily sat up at once. Looking around, he squinted and noticed a bizarre shadow creeping towards the bedroom door.

"Where you going?" he demanded.

Beckett, who had been crawling with his thick blanket draped over himself, stood up and faced his twin, sniffling. "Beckett had bad dream. Beckett sleep with Arty," he cried, sinking his head deeper into the blanket.

"Beckett, you yellow simple-toon," scoffed Myles, trying to roll his eyes. (He was rather unsuccessful; he had to work on that.) He collapsed on his bed and turned his back from his twin. When he had heard the door close softly, he rolled over to gaze at the now empty bed across his own. He huffed irritably, scowling, as though it had done him wrong. As he shut his eyes to keep the shivery darkness of the room from his vision, he hugged Professor Primate close and pulled his own blanket around himself tightly.

"Simple-toon," he whispered, ballooning his cheeks.

* * *

The morning sun passed through the great mullioned window and hit the sleeping figures on Artemis Fowl's huge bed. Yawning, Artemis slowly opened his eyes and was surprised to find his head and neck entangled with a furry toy's long tail. He also could not freely move which momentarily confused him. As it happened, two peacefully sleeping boys were on his either side, snoring gently; they were hugging his torso and his arms were around them.

Artemis allowed himself a small smile as he ignored the feeling of drool on his nightshirt.


	9. Fowl inDeed

**Nine: Fowl inDeed**

Humiliation did not bode well with a Fowl. Especially if it was Artemis Fowl. One week, he had endured, but he could not anymore take the caddish onslaughts to his, admittedly inordinate, pride. _Left Foot Fowl_, if an accurate description of his gauche motor skill, was barely a decent moniker for someone with the nobility and intellect like his. He had to make his move—a crafty move so much more sophisticated than mere physical labour.

Artemis knew that, if aware, Holly would categorise the infantile deed as one his "fits of childish pique". But it was his ego at stake. He could not—would not—let this go.

_This is hardly illegal_, he reasoned. A smile stretched his lips at the excuse. _Hardly_, he repeated, effortlessly hacking into St. Bartleby's system in search for the cretin's family records.

"Hmmm. Edward Thomas Kane, heir to and son of Tom Kane. A hotel. How conveniently terrific."

_The lowly boor should know his place,_ he thought.

Mr. Kane owned a hotel chain and one establishment was favourably located in County Limerick. It was a wonderful county and it would be nice to have a place to stay in for holidays: A handsome nineteenth-century manor in a scenic estate with a rich history of royalty, soon to acquire the name of Fowl. Highly lucrative and it would be killing two birds with one stone. _Excellent_.

His self-satisfied vampire smile was eerie, a sure sign that something nefarious was bound to happen.

Out of spite, it might be, but it was still business. And it was not _all_ about spite.

* * *

"What is this, Arty?" asked Angeline. Her son had gone to a business trip that morning and returned with a set of hoary keys in his hand, held aloft in offer. "Keys? For what?"

"I know how much you love Curragchase, Mum," said Artemis in a voice that reminded her of a lecture. "And sometimes, you have to work with them for days, which can be tiring for a person without a comfortable place to stay. This is a present for you." He pushed the keys into his mother's hands. "Lá an mháthair faoi shona dhuit."

For a moment, Angeline stared at the keys with a slight frown. Then she smiled and took her son into a loving embrace. "Thank you," she breathed. "You need not to do this, but thank you."

* * *

**Mothering Day (UK version of Mother's Day) is celebrated on the third Sunday before Easter in Ireland. Oh well, I celebrate it at the first Sunday of May (I love my mum). Tomorrow, because it's already Saturday in my time zone. Curragchase is a forest park in County Limerick, near Adare.**

**Idea came from Atlantis Complex's first chapter: . /downloads/atlantiscomplex_  
Lesson: Do not aggravate a Fowl. He will take your hotel chain and dignity and offer them all to his mummy.**


	10. Mesmer

**Ten: Mesmer**

"Look at me, Artemis."

Holly placed her hands on her hips and tried to look imposing, her lacking height barely helping. When the Mud Boy did not so much as avert his eyes from his book, she blew a few obstructing strands of hair away from her face with an irritated huff. For a second, she thought she saw his eyes flicker up at her, which must've been a trick of light because he looked determined to be immovable.

"Are you angry at me for kicking you when you still had the Complex? Because if that's it, then I'm sorry. Still your fault though."

The youth remained silent, his eyes focused on the book he was perusing. Exasperated, Holly ran a hand through her newly grown hair. And again. And again.

"Cut your hair," said Artemis suddenly without looking up.

Holly was thrown off by this odd suggestion, making her hand freeze around her nape.

"_What_?" she asked, baffled.

Artemis glanced up to meet Holly's eyes and then returned his attention back to his disguised copy of the Book. "You look… less slovenly with your crew cut," he said somewhat stiffly, turning a page.

The elf stared at him, nonplussed. Shaking her head, she reached out for her helmet on the nearby desk, set it on her head, and hid behind the visor to contact Foaly about her return flight back to Haven. This made Artemis give a small sigh of relief.

_Hair in motion is so complex it can _mesmer_ a human brain._


	11. Regret

**Eleven: Regret**

They wont stop, my tears. Every strike, every pain I give you, I am plagued twice as much. Is this punishment? I can't stop myself from hurting you. I have to, I was ordered to. His word is law, and I can only abide; it's what I do—what I _should_ do. Try as I might, halting this agonising task is beyond my capabilities. I can only endure.

Flowing, falling, these tears won't cease. I weep and wail. Softly, weakly.

And you, never moving. You mock me with your silent rest.

Regret. Deep and immense regret. I should not have done it—should not have told him…

"Juliet?"

A familiar, warm voice. Hope?

I look up, my tearstained face in full sight, to see my loving brother with an expression only I can read.

"Artemis asks if the onions rings are done. Holly's complaining in hunger."

I try to calm myself with deep breaths and look down at the sliced onions that so innocently lay on the chopping board. My brother cannot see my suffering, the agony these onions put me through. Just because I passed Cordon Bleu cooking does not mean I'm immune to this.

"Soon," I managed to croak with a sniffle.

With a nod, Dom leaves me alone again.

Regret. I regret telling Artemis and Holly how scrumptious onion rings are back in Mexico.

* * *

**At least once in your life, onions have made you sob. And when that happened you had the desire to act out the drama caused by the tears. Admit it.**

**I miss you, Juliet. Come back in TAC, okay?**


	12. Interruptus

**Twelve: Interruptus**

Domovoi Butler was trained to guard the most hazardous principals in the world. And he was actually guarding one. His life was tied around everything that was and related to Artemis Fowl the Second. It was a life-long job that he had willingly accepted. And he would readily die for it, which he had done so already. Thrice, in fact. A leisurely walk with Master Artemis could very well turn into a worldwide, interdimensional, interspecies disaster. And this taught Butler to be more alert than he had been back in his days in the Academy.

Now he was prepared for everything. Or so he thought.

Butler stood outside Artemis's bedroom door and placed his hand on the knob, turning it and pushing. It was time for lunch and he was not going to yield at his principal's insistence on skipping; Artemis was working on a big project with Holly about some architectural design for Haven City. A remunerative work, he said, but in Butler's opinion, it was not worth the death by starvation. Butler entered the room and was about to critically inspect every nook and cranny as he always did for safety measures but his eyes became locked on one target: the huddled group of furniture near the window.

Nothing had prepared Butler for this. His eyes widened in horror.

At the sound of the door opening, Holly's head abruptly emerged from behind the armchair, mouth agape, with a mixed expression of nervous shock and exhaustion. She was breathing in an audibly irregular rhythm, her shoulders rapidly rising up and down, around which was draped with… was that _Artemis's_ blazer? Her face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat and, with her slick hair clinging onto her brown skin, looked as if framed by auburn fire, all the more intensified by the sunlight coming from the open window. This had the effect of making her emit a sultry glow, which in turn made Butler feel queasy.

The Eurasian hopefully scanned the room for Artemis. The teen could not be found, which could only mean… Butler's eyes travelled back to where Holly was. He immediately half-closed the door to hide himself. The back of his neck was warming up. Butler knew that Artemis, who was still in the middle phase of puberty, had a little infatuation with the pretty Captain, but he seriously did _not_ expect this, let alone almost witness it. "I sincerely apologise for interrupting your and Artemis's... activity. I will just come back later," he said hurriedly, his grip on the doorknob shaking. His free hand clutched at his chest. Maybe he really should retire...

The elf's face scrunched up in confusion. "Wha—what're you talkin' 'bou'? I… was—ha, ha—that is... W—We were—" Holly inhaled and exhaled deeply to steady her breath. She continued, "I'm playing hide-and-seek with the twins. You haven't seen them anywhere near, have you? I'm sure Artemis is helping them; they are always able to almost find me. That cheating prat." She raised Artemis's blazer over her head in an attempt to conceal herself. "Of course, it's against the rules to shield..."

The bodyguard stared at the room's carpeted floor, swept over with relief. He proceeded to mentally berate himself about how Madam Ko would be ashamed of him and his faulty observation, tuning out Holly's tirade about Artemis's dirty and unfair play.

* * *

**HA! **


	13. Kid

_Upon request of ILiveForTheDay/ForeverDay._

* * *

**Thirteen: Kid**

Grev told them that his dad was in the recycling lounge and, if he knew his dad well enough, would take an hour to get back. While waiting, the two faces in separate sections on the gas view screen discussed a situation he could not very much understand… something about an unhinged pixie.

Taking a bite out of the carrot in his hand, he watched them in fascination. The mundane discussion they were having quickly turned into an interesting playful banter, which promptly evolved into an amusing bicker. For a moment, they seemed to have forgotten about his presence, so he simply observed them.

An idea sparked his young mind.

"Do you have a kid?" he asked them excitedly. He had always wanted a playmate.

Grev looked up at them with eagerly expectant eyes, swishing his tail in wild motions and bouncing his hind hooves alternately. The question hushed the two in surprise. They fell silent, taking in Foaly's son's innocent words. And then:

"NO!" the elf and the Mud Boy cried in unison.

"Why would you _even _assume such a thing, Grev?" asked Artemis, his voice almost like a strained hiss. He rubbed his temple.

"Well," said the child, his eyes up in ponder, pouting, "you two act jush like Mummy and Daddy. That mean you have a kid, right?" He angled his head, a broad smile on his lips, all the while swaying his breakfast-covered torso.

Holly could only weakly cover half her face with a hand, groaning "Not you too..." and "worse than Mulch yesterday..."

"And Daddy always refer to you and Auntie Holly as 'the married c—hmmph—"

Grev's explanation was cut off by a quick hand on his mouth from the newly arrived elderly centaur. Foaly grinned sheepishly at the sight of Artemis's raised eyebrow, an expression coming from him that was as threatening as a peeved female elf's glare, which he was also being grilled under.

* * *

**Foaly's kid was mentioned in Atlantis Complex's first chapter.**


	14. I

**Fourteen: I**

You came back. Three years, I waited hopefully.

Blue, cold and cruel—the first thing I noticed when you looked at me. Your smile, friendly and affectionate, spread warmth and melted that ice—that _eye_. I averted my gaze, hurt; still, I welcomed you just like how an old friend would.

Red. Blood rushed up to your cheeks to fill a bright blush, deepening as you rebuked the centaur's teasing.

I excused myself, 'Paperwork. I'm a Commander now, you know.'

Envy. Hurt. Dejection. My huge grin covered that lie.

It was clear who you want.

And _I_ am not Fowl.

* * *

**A drabble! This is Kit's fault. **


	15. Suited Up

**Fifteen: Suited Up**

Puberty is the worst stage in life for a genius. One genius, in particular.

It was way past midnight when Artemis had been rudely awakened from his delicious slumber (dreaming about caviar paradise) by a blaring and ungodly sound of… well, he tried to not think about what it was and just willed himself to go back to sleep. Foaly, who had hacked into the Mud Boy's laptop, turned up the sound to maximum volume, which made the cranky adolescent jump from his bed and into the front of his desk.

"_What_ is it?" hissed Artemis irritably, glaring.

"Good evening to you too," said Foaly, smirking. "We have an emergency in Haven."

As a liar himself, Artemis knew that Foaly was not telling the truth and that the centaur knew that he knew it; however, he was too tired to even begin an argument about this.

"Can't it wait for a more convenient hour, Foaly? Maybe _tomorrow_?" His eyes narrowed, emphasising the darkening colour underneath that he sported.

"No. Emergencies do not wait for sluggish Mud Boys. Now to business: It concerns Holly."

The last words made Artemis fight for consciousness. "What happened to her?"

Foaly sobered. "See for yourself," he said, pressing a button.

On the screen, the centaur disappeared to be replaced by a live video feed from a security camera in a cramped office. The sight pulled Artemis out of his sleepy stupor.

Captain Holly Short appeared to be preparing for work; it must be the start of day for the People. She sat _on_ her desk ("Typical of her."), one leg over the other, and had her hands put up pins on her hair to keep it away from her face. Artemis's eyes locked on the _mesmer_-inducing hair for a few seconds. He felt a lump on his throat. He also noticed that she was not in her usual jumpsuit. No. Today she was in her everyday working uniform. She was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a pair of dark-green trousers. The matching jacket was laid down beside her.

What great discomfort it was for Artemis and great joy for his hormones. His affinity—fetish, once jested by Mulch—for suits since he was a wee boy only added to the problem. To him, she was an image that could wake any hormonal man out of the deepest sopor without even being initially seen.

Foaly's face came back into view, grinning broadly, and shook Artemis out of the _mesmer_-like trance he was in.

"Happy birthday, Mud Boy."

"It's not my birthday," replied Artemis in a dignified voice to hide his embarrassment upon the realisation that just a moment ago, he had been gawking.

"It might as well be. No need to thank me for the present, Arty. I'll send you a photo."

With that, the centaur terminated the link, but the ghost of his taunting grin remained in Artemis's mind. He groaned in frustration and annoyance.

"Confusticate and bebother that centaur," he muttered to keep a civil tongue.

Puberty really is the worst stage in life for a genius.

And as a fellow genius, Foaly had gone through a likewise disconcerting experience so he took the liberty of letting Artemis in on the educational natural occurrence for every intellectually-gifted individual. Distraction of the mind was his agenda, waging war against Artemis Fowl's notable unflappability, and his doomsday device was an elf.

It was a success.

* * *

**Inspired by Kit's review for chapter twelve. Also, I drew an artwork for this. Holly in her everyday LEP working uniform: xybolic. deviantart art/Holly-Short-Working-Uniform-164456771**

**"Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!" is the original quote from Tolkien's The Hobbit.**


	16. Puerile Acts

**Sixteen: Puerile Acts**

"I will tell Mummy about this!"

Twenty-year-old Grub Kelp stood in the middle of an old playground devoid of any other children and glowered at his equally furious big brother, Mite, who had thrown a shoe at him that hit him flat on the face. He tried to control his snivelling to look menacing, which was difficult because his childish features were failing him. Slowly, he squatted, picked up the nearby shoe, and threw it back at his brother's direction. It hit Mite on his stomach with a dull thud. Livid, Mite crouched to reach the offending piece and stomped toward his brother, hand raised. Grub whimpered and covered his face with his arms in a miserable attempt on defence.

"You! Don't bully your little brother!" a voice cried from behind Mite.

Before he could turn to see who the newcomer was, he felt a painfully powerful blow on his back, making him lurch forward a couple of steps and drop his smelly footwear artillery. He spun around and saw a girl elf, as titchy as a pixie and probably only ten to fifteen years old, with knuckles on her hips and shooting daggers up at him.

"What was that for?" he yelled angrily.

Like any boy attacked by another kid, Mite advanced toward her to teach her a lesson, regardless of her gender. Boys should not hit girls? Pshaw! What utter rubbish! He was hurt and she hit him first so that gave him the right to retaliate.

The girl readied herself into a sparring position by raising her fists and spreading her feet apart, the balls bouncing up and down.

"I'm LEP! You don't have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you don't mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence," she recited as warning, likely not understanding most of what she had said at all.

Mite brought up his fist to attack. So what if he did not know to fight properly? She was just a girl; he could take her.

How very wrong he was.

Almost effortlessly deflecting his clumsy strike, she gave him a swift punch in the gut. She took a quick step forward and hooked a foot with his and pulled, her arm that had been used to punch him pushing on his shoulders. With a thud he landed on the ground, mouth open in shock.

The little girl stuck her tongue out and winked at Grub who had been sitting still on the sideline, watching the brief ruffianly act unfold. With that, she flounced away happily as though nothing had happened, leaving Mite sprawled on the dirt, eyes gaped wide. Supporting himself with his elbows, he stared in astonishment at his opponent's retreating back. That was the first time he had been beaten by a girl. Embarrassing, but... somewhat admirable. He was so amazed, and the thought made him blush a bit. This did not escape his brother's notice.

"You like her!" Grub's eyes widened and he clapped his hands together with glee, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be angry. "Oooh, I'll tell Chix about this!"

"No, I don't!" cried Mite in protest, but his ruddy face betrayed him. "I don't!"

* * *

**Inspired by my older sister's act of profound immaturity a few days ago.**


	17. Acts

**Seventeen: Acts**

Her tiny, quivering frame bent over his beaten body. He was pale, almost lifeless, and his torso and limbs had patches of fresh blood. It was a perturbing sight. She grabbed the front of his mangled tracksuit and shook him, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"Come on, Artemis," she cried, daintily biting her lower lip. "Wake up. You can't die on me now."

But he did not move. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as she dropped her head, falling down against his chest, and wept and wailed.

"No... _no_,_ no_,_ no_, _no_!" she whispered, shaking her mane of long, red hair despairingly. Strands fell from her shoulders and surrounded the man's handsome, young face.

And then his eyes snapped opened. He gasped, as though coming out of the water after a perennial plunge, making her lift her head and look up. Their mismatched eyes locked for a moment before he convulsed violently, his eyes rolling back. She jumped away, horror-struck.

After a moment, he laid motionless and then coughed and spluttered. He blinked several times, trying to clearing his vision. The girl approached him, looking relieved.

"Holly, you saved me again," he said. He smiled weakly but he reached up to tuck a lock of red hair behind one pointy ear. The same hand then touched and stroked her tear-stained cheek.

"Of course I saved you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't _live_ without you..."

She reached out for his face, cradling it with both hands, leaned down and kissed him. Where their lips met, a splurge of magical fireworks set off, enveloping them in a colourful array of sparks. Their kiss deepened, their hands travelled—

Holly Short turned the television off in disgust, gripping the remote control with such force her fingers ached.

Skylar Peat might be a great actress, but she was still supposed to follow what the movie director ordered her. And the director did not want the star of his movie to be portrayed as a butch-like officer, regardless of what and how the real life Holly Short was; instead, she was this beautiful, voluptuous elf, womanly, and almost everything the real Holly was not. The director also wanted this sixth movie about the famous controversial hero of the LEP to be excessively romantic and to appeal among the younger demographic of the Fairy People by emphasising on the Forbidden Love theme.

It was absurd.

"That's not even _close_ to what really happened," hissed Holly through gritted teeth. "Everything's exaggerated. There's no way I'd be horrified when I _know_ my magic was fixing him up. He didn't even thrash around like that!" She inhaled greatly and then continued her tirade: "And I'm not denying that I cried that time—I mean, who wouldn't?—but not like _that_. She sounds as if she's being cut open."

"I can' shee wha' you're com'lainin' abou', 'Olly. Dish movie earn'd more ingo's than the prev'ous uns," said Mulch through a mouthful of popcorn and beetles. He swallowed. "And you look better in this movie—"

"I don't care. That's not even me!"

"—your chest is fuller, your hair actually makes you look your gender, and..." Mulch faltered at the menacing glare directed at him and gulped nervously. "And—and that dwarf who plays me is not half-bad," he said quickly, steering away from the topic of the elf's physique that does not cater to the male gaze.

Holly slumped against the threadbare sofa belligerently and crossed her arms.

"I'm going to _castrate_ that culpable centaur using _every_ possible way with that Retimager of his," she growled vehemently.

* * *

**At last, I finally did something with Mulch in it. This was supposedly shorter (and without Mulch) but with my laptop crashing, I had to retype this and it made me rethink the storyline and then it got five times longer. Also, I've always wanted to write a piece with Holly saying she wants to castrate someone.**


	18. Mouth

**Eighteen: Mouth**

Ten years since the Fowl Manor siege and the gang were still as inseparable as two frolicking Stinkworms in the mating season. One reason for this was Artemis Fowl's tenaciously bad karma that kept on forcing the significant individuals to inevitably meet in the middle of the kerfuffle. Other reasons include friendship and _more_.

And so, Butler and Holly sat in a small table in Grand Café de la Préfecture in Dijon, enjoying their meal. Or at least they appeared to enjoy it just like how a father and daughter on holiday would to accurately enact the two characters they were impersonating. Mulch was somewhere in area, on position to fulfil his role as the gas bomb and escape route upon Holly's signal. Two tables away from the incognito father and daughter was Artemis, cool and collected, smoothly talking with a reluctant informant he had coaxed into meeting him personally today.

"Artemis has a way in utilising his own gift of tongues," observed Butler, bringing the rim of his cup of tea to his lips. From behind his tinted sunglasses, his eyes never left the now adult genius.

"Of course he has. He's quite a cunning linguist," said Holly, glancing up from her plate of crudités with a meaningful smirk. "It's dexterous, his mouth."

The bodyguard almost choked on his drink, his eyes bulging. The sight made the elf chuckle.

"Butler, I'm just pulling your leg," she said, grinning. "_Probably_."

* * *

**I think Kit and Ru-Doragon are rubbing off on me. For writing this, I blame them entirely. **


	19. Green Day

**Nineteen: Green Day**

**World vs. World. The Angel And The Jerk.**

'_16. Desensitized. Jackass. Brat. You Lied. All The Time._'

'86. Drama Queen. Extraordinary Girl. She's A Rebel. The One I Want.'

**Too Much Too Soon. Hearts Collide.**

_Don't Want To Fall In Love._

Nice Guys Finish Last. I Want To Be Alone. (One Of My Lies.)

* * *

All By Myself. 1000 Hours. _2000 Light Years Away. _Are We The Waiting. Waiting. Waiting Alone. Tired of Waiting For You. **Misery.**

**Holiday.** _Homecoming._ _No One Knows._ At The Library. **Lights Out.** **Blood, Sex, And Booze.** Dominated Love Slave. _Welcome To Paradise._ **Do Da Da.** Wonderful. _Best Thing In Town._ _Having A Blast. _**Last Ride In.**

**Jaded.** _Sleepy Head._ Rest.

* * *

**See The Light.**

No Pride. Coming Clean. Hold On. _Restless Heart Syndrome._ Don't Leave Me.

* * *

**In The End. Only Of You.**

* * *

**Aided by GreenDayAuthority's song list. I'm quite proud of this chapter. And yes, I know the ages aren't right, but those are the closest numbered song titles the band can offer.**

**EDIT: A lot of readers can't figure this out so here are clues: **_Holly_, Artemis, and **both. Also, check out the lyrics of ****_All by Myself_****, ****_Blood, Sex, and Booze, _****and ****_Dominated Love Slave_****. They might stimulate your imaginations a bit. The inspiration for this is ****_Love and Other Catastrophes: A Mix Tape _****by Amanda Holtzer.**

**EDIT 8/8/12: I submitted an edited version of this thing to an anthology and it got published! Yay.**


	20. Show

**Twenty: Show**

First France and now the United states. Another cross-continental jaunt for the team of both humans and fairies, and this time, they were in Waukegan, Illinois.

Butler stood still and rigid outside a clump of trees, but his eyes warily darted out in all directions, watching out for any possible attack. Behind him, somewhere within the woods, was Mulch; although, the dwarf was not there to play an important role for Artemis's scheme—that would be later, in the execution—but to find himself a comfortable makeshift recycling lounge. The bodyguard tried not to shudder at the thought.

Upon checking his wristwatch, Butler frowned. Artemis was with Holly (who had refused point-blank to stand guard for hostiles while Mulch was busy egesting) to carry out a crucial part of his plan and they were a minute late. Butler was about to reach out for the mobile phone in his pocket, but he spotted two figures drawing close. He relaxed a bit.

The smaller of the two looked nettled but the other seemed to ignore her. Artemis had his hand talking the form of the letter Y with the thumb placed on his ear and the pinkie near his mouth. His scowl became more defined with each rapid whisper.

When the two had stopped in front of the bodyguard, Holly mouthed, "Foaly. Arguing."

Butler frowned disapprovingly and then said, "You're late. We're a bit behind the schedule. You two should've been here earlier than the allotted time. Have you two gone anywhere else aside from the Park District?"

Holly huffed irritably and rolled her eyes. "No, but your master wanted to enjoy a good fellatio."

Butler was quite certain he was being kidded, but the elf only looked downright annoyed and serious. He would like to believe that his ears had deceived him, which, unfortunately for him, could not even be remotely possible because, firstly, he was a Butler, and secondly, right now his keen ears could hear a mosquito's tinny buzz a metre away—a remarkable feat since the ability to hear such high-frequency sound, as a rule, would be gone upon reaching adulthood, a phenomenon known as presbycusis. He was sure his face resembled nothing more than a mix of confusion, shock, and repulsion, which Holly noticed.

"Is there something wrong, Butler?" asked Holly, concerned.

At that moment, Artemis lowered his hand and twisted his fairy ring communicator back into place.

"I'm sorry for being late, old friend," he said. "There was a performance in Schornick Theatre and I simply cannot miss it. I assure you that the plan is unaffected by this minor sortie."

"Schornick?" asked Holly, brow furrowed. "I thought it was Goodfellow Hall..."

Artemis shook his head slowly, as though he was simply talking to his younger brothers. "No, in 2003, the name was changed from Goodfellow Hall to Dr. Lynn Schornick Theatre to honour the man who had lead the Cultural Arts to where it is today. Also, he—"

Butler closed his eyes for a few seconds, tuning out Artemis's lecture. Oh, a _Goodfellow_ _show_, he thought._ I _am _getting old._

When he heard rustling of leaves and snaps of twigs, he turned around and saw Mulch stepping out of the trees, grinning blissfully and buttoning up his bumflap. Holly, pretending to listen to the genius's lecture, glanced up at Butler briefly with her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

* * *

**Holly is an evil woman. **

**You know how it feels to love someone but you can't say it? It's painful, isn't it? So if you love Babble, review because you will be in pain if I don't update; I sometimes get my inspiration from thoughtful reviews and/or suggestions (e.g. Chapters 13 and 15). **

**Also, check out my other fic ****_Architecture Chatter. _****It's supposedly a chapter here but it got too long.**


	21. The Architect

**An alternative continuation for **_**Architecture Chatter**_**. You don't necessarily have to read it, but you'd understand this more if you do.**

**... actually, you should read it. It's erotically nerdy. **

* * *

**Twenty-One: The Architect**

It was a very early hour in the morning that Butler did his routine sweep of the Fowl Manor before proceeding to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for his employers. He was thinking of waffles and maybe something—

His train of thought was disrupted upon seeing his master sitting on the table with a laptop in front of him and a human mobile phone in hand. For the past few days, due to the project he had taken on with Holly, Artemis normally missed breakfast in favour of rest and sleep. His presence obviously meant that he had an early lay last night.

"Yes," Artemis spoke though the receiver. "A drafting table. The usual requirements. I expect it to be delivered this afternoon then." A few more words of confirmations and demands, then Artemis put the device down, stifling a yawn, and his fingers began a rapid, irregular rhythm on the keyboard and mouse tablet; he was constructing a digital model of the Police Plaza.

"What happened to the drafting table in your study?" asked Butler, putting on an apron.

"Time has caught up with it. It is now in an irreparable state."

Artemis left it at that with a tone of finality, hinting that the bodyguard was not to ask anymore, and his eyes narrowed to focus on the screen before him. Butler knew Artemis well enough when he was really calm and composed and when he was just pretending. Why would the subject about a mere drafting table make Artemis feel the need to feign facade? Butler was puzzled.

"Where is Holly? Would she be joining us for breakfast?"

"She is still—" Artemis yawned. A bit forced, in Butler's opinion. "Perhaps—maybe—she is still asleep."

"She's not in her room, Arty," said a mirthful voice.

Butler and Artemis turned to look at the kitchen entrance where Juliet stood. She was leaning on the doorframe, with her arms crossed, and smirking as if she knew something others did not, which was probably true.

"I checked up on her," she continued. "If she is, _perhaps_, asleep, where do you think she is sleeping? Surely not in _her_ room. She's not anywhere else as well—or at least as far as the surveillance monitors around the manor can tell me."

His cheeks colouring, Artemis coughed in his hand. Butler's eyes were instantly drawn to the hand used.

"What happened to your wrist? Is—"

"It's simply a clumsy mishap, Butler," said Artemis, averting his eyes. He used his other hand to pull his shirt's sleeve over the crude line that encircled his wrist. The other hand also caught Butler's attention.

"A _clumsy_ _mishap_," repeated Butler disbelievingly. "That's how your straightedge's nylon _cord_ ended up leaving marks on _both_ your wrists?" He recognised the marks. Of course he did; he was a Butler. And they looked recent, as though the cord used had just been untied. "Is that also how your table—?" He broke off, seeing a not so pale-looking Artemis. In fact, Artemis looked as if all shades of red had infested his skin.

Perhaps Artemis really had an early _lay_ last night, thought Butler. A drafting table in an _irreparable state_? His straightedge's _cord_? He preferred not to think about whatever this clumsy mishap was and let his master be.

Juliet emitted a cry that resembled a shrill cackle. She walked over to Artemis and tousled his neatly combed hair into a messy nest, much to his irritation.

"After your late night adventurous escapade on your drafting table, that hairstyle fits your morning look _so_ much better." She grinned broadly. "_Architect."_

Juliet then ambled to the kitchen counter, singing bars of an unfamiliar song to Artemis. He did catch a few words like _dominated love slave_. He groaned.

* * *

**I needed to get this out of the way before I get distracted by school and, possibly, by Kit's short story contest.**


	22. Delivery

**Twenty-Two: Delivery**

"_Your fucking fault, you git_!"

Artemis stared at Holly, trying to keep his poker face from sliding off. His jaw clenched from the guilt she was diffusing into his person. He did not dare deny her accusation as his ears met the continuous stream of expletives known to man, fairy, and animal spurting from her mouth.

"Fuck you, bastard! D'arvit!_ Merde_!_ Putang ina mong gago ka_!_ Leha le'azazel—"_

Her face contorting to an expression most unimaginable, Holly was cut off by her own shriek—a shriek so full of agony Artemis could almost feel it. And then she continued on accusing him of everything she could think of. She was suffering and she was putting the entire blame on him, even trying to make him feel a bit of her own pain by tightly gripping whatever body part of his that she could reach.

Of course, he was aware that the consequences in every circumstance they had encountered were mostly his own doing. This time, though, both of them had played their parts, but this was the most inopportune moment to remind her. He was, after all, bearing the lesser weight—just a silly speck compared to hers.

"I pray—ha, ha—to Danu," she said through heaving gasps and screeches, "that—ha, ha, ha—stinkworms _feast _on—nnnghh—on your _cock_—nnghhh—when—ha, ha— when I _tear_ that OFF!"

Gulping, Artemis tried to stop the image forming in his mind and the feeling of horror spreading all over his body, at which he was utterly failing. His eyes sized the room; the fairies around them acted as though an event in which threats gushing out from a tiny elf directed to a human twice her size was the most natural thing in the world and simply proceeded to do their rituals. This did not assuage his discomfort, especially now that the part of him clutched by Holly was feeling numb. He reminded himself repeatedly that Butler would not let Holly feed annelids with his various organs, a mantra that he recited to himself over the next half-an-hour.

The last of her bloodcurdling shrieks was replaced by a shrill cry, which seemed to bring her relief, calming her down, as she slumped heavily against her pillow in exhaustion.

"It's a healthy boy!" announced the sprite gleefully holding the little Mud Elf, even though both parents knew this fact beforehand.

"Don't—" Holly glared up at Artemis, though it had lesser intensity than what she'd give him normally. "_Don't_ you dare name him Artemis _or_ Diana. 'specially Diana; he's a boy," she said in a raspy and weak voice, almost reducing into incoherent mumbles. "My great-great-g-grea..." Her half-lidded eyes closed and she fell silent with a tiny smile curved on her lips.

Artemis whispered a promise to her that he wouldn't and, though she couldn't see him, smiled back, sweeping aside sweaty locks from her forehead to plant a tender kiss.

* * *

**Bohemian Rhapsody is playing in my head while writing this. Yeah, it's **_**Glee**_**-inspired.**


	23. Garden

**ILiveForTheDay/Forever Day, this is for you.**

* * *

**Twenty-Four: Garden**

It's that season again. No, not _that _code red one when female fairies past the age of sixty get cranky due to the crimson waves haphazardly gushing from down below, because females do not have simultaneous "time of the year".

Every spring (and just about any season) aboveground, Foaly acts as Mother Nature underground and manipulates the temperature just right to make the little seedlings grown in Haven comfy. It is also the time when unfortunate fairies begrudgingly shun themselves away from nature because of allergy season—the cause of annual misery for a very small population of fairies, a malady so rare you have got to have immensely upset the gods to be afflicted. It is just depressing. To be separated from nature by something as trivial as an allergy is just unbearable.

Grub Kelp was always filled with gratitude to the gods that he was not one of those poor, poor souls who, unlike him, could not fully inhale and appreciate the fragrance of the flowers at this time of year. His brother Trouble, on the other hand, was not as blessed.

"_Achoo_!"

Bless him.

Commander Trouble Kelp, who was always on leave every time this particular season would arrive, rigidly sat up on his couch, thick blanket slipping down on his lap. He strained his itchy and tired eyes and glared around while seizing fistful of tissue from the box on the coffee table. He wiped his nose irritably, wincing at the rough paper's contact with the sore skin above his lips, and his eyes focused on the bum slumped through his window. His open window. _Open_.

He sneezed again, and this time, it was heard by the owner of the bum. Grub Kelp wiggled away from his undignified position and straightened up to face his sick brother. On his hands were a small watering can and a book; Trouble had a few potted plants on an iron ledge just outside his flat's window.

"Good morning, Trubs," he said, pleasantly grinning. "Mummy asked me to bring you the thistle soup she cooked. I warmed it up. It's in the kitchen. Do—"

"Close the window, Grub," Trouble interrupted his brother, rubbing his temple to ease the painful throbs. He sniffed greatly to relieve his stuffy nose, but to no avail.

"Wait, I just need to—"

"_Close it_!"

"But, Trubs," Grub protested in a whiny voice, "these plants need care for healthy reproduction." He held up his Botany book open to a page about pollination and tapping it with the can's nozzle to prove a point.

"Reprodu… D'arvit, Grub! I can't breathe here and all you care about is pollination?"

"Trubs, I think that allergy is addling your brain. Pollination is important to these plants, about as important as _your _sex life."

"Well then," said Trouble through gritted teeth, "maybe you could tell your leafy fornicating friends to finish up their massive passionate _orgies_ because their _spunk_ is clogging up my nose!"

Trouble's face was that of pure, deranged menace, accompanied by bulging bloodshot eyes, that Grub, sensing danger, was actually frightened. With a yelp, he quickly slid down the window with a loud smack and, in fear of his brother's scathing glare, retreated out into the kitchen.

Trouble's eyes landed on the visible foliage of his potted garden through the window's glass. They were quite blooming today. Maybe he could actually get to work tomorrow and give the pretty flowers to Lili. She'd love them.

Then his little outburst came to his mind. Leafy fornicators… and their flowers. Flowers were the sex organs of plants. To cut them off and give them to Lili would be the same as offering her a bouquet of severed willies… he lowered his gaze to his nether regions and shuddered and then looked back at the plants.

He tore his eyes away, shaking his head and making a mental note that he would have to give his brother a right smack on the head for affecting his view on plants to this extent.

This annual green gangbang was messing him up.

* * *

**It's quite blatant that I never took Botany seriously back in high school. Makes you think where my mind actually wanders. By the way, just the other day, my mum got a bouquet of roses for her birthday. Imagine what ****_I_**** thought. **


	24. Call

**Twenty-Four: Call**

A call. A simple call. Yes, he could do that.

Artemis had analysed all factors and concluded that this was the perfect time. But he was nervous. And like all nervous schemers, he dismissed one factor that was fatally disastrous to every plan. If not considered, it would surely muddle his judgment on the situation at hand. And that factor was nervousness itself, which, in turn, had made him assess things very nervously.

Of course, being nervous, he was not aware of that so with a few tapping of keys and clicks of buttons onscreen, he set up a call. When it began to ring, he held his breath.

* * *

It had been a hectic day in Police Plaza. More so than usual. It was as though the pixies, goblins, and dwarves had a meeting beforehand because they all decided to show up and protest in front of the building, screaming and yelling for the release of various criminals held up in Atlantis and Howler's Peak. Then there was that reported murder in B. Root Alley allegedly caused by unstable demons, which was just that: reported, and didn't happen. Taxed the officers though, that one. Oh, and don't get her started on the Kelp commotion in the building about indoor flowering plants being obscenely promiscuous…

After all those events, Holly was a bit surprised she had gotten home earlier than usual, tired and hungry. Turning her key, she pushed her flat's door with a bit of difficulty, thinking longingly of her bed and the leftover salad in her refrigerator. She tossed her jacket aside, aiming for the couch though not necessarily caring if it landed on the spot, and proceeded on unbuttoning her shirt on the way to the kitchen. Her home phone, which was similar to the Mud Man version, began to ring. She ignored it, knowing that if it was important, Foaly would throw all manners out of the window and attack the device or simply contact her though her work communicator. She let the answerphone pick up the call.

"I need to tell you something."

It was Artemis, Holly realised, making her stop in her tracks. His voice was strangely solemn but there was a hint of urgency, as though he seriously _needed _to tell her whatever was the purpose of his call. If it was that important, however, why call her through her crappy home phone? Why not use the fairy communicator she had given him? Accessing this device would require more considerable effort for hacking. His tone made her want to just stand there and let him go on, but what made her pick up was the thought of another saving-the-world emergency.

* * *

"I need to tell you something," said Artemis. He wrung his fingers and fought to keep a steady breathing rhythm. "I—"

—_am in love with you_, while unbelievably cheesy, would have been his next words, as what was set in his perfect plan. But Holly always liked to defy, albeit ignorantly.

"Hello? Artemis?" she said. "What is it?"

Instinctively, Artemis pushed himself away from his desk, away from Holly's voice, his chair, along with him, tumbling over. He managed to keep himself from squealing, screeching, or producing any embarrassing cry, but that did not stop the fallen chair's loud noise from the contact with the carpeted floor from carrying through Holly's speaker.

"Artemis, are you all right? What happened? Did I surprise you?"

"No, it's fine. The twins are in my room, that's all," he lied irritably. He was sprawled on the floor with the back of his head throbbing.

"Oh. So, what do you need to tell me?"

"Nothing. I… forgot."

"You forgot? _Forgot_?"

"Yes, I did." Artemis struggled to get up. He placed his finger on his mouse tablet and let the pointer hover over the terminate button onscreen. "Now if you'll excuse me. I am needed downstairs. As nice as it is to talk to you, my time is limited. Goodbye, Captain." He clicked it.

* * *

Holly stared at her phone, stunned.

"Well, that's just rude," she muttered.

* * *

Butler entered his master's bedroom to see the chair beside the desk fallen down and Artemis lying on the huge bed with an arm over his eyes. Even from afar, Butler could see the very red cheeks carried by his scowl.

"How was it?" asked Butler, walking over.

Artemis turned over on his stomach and covered his head with a pillow, groaning. Like a regular teenager. He _must _be frustrated. "Aborted," came his muffled reply.

The bodyguard chuckled quietly and gently patted the boy's arm. "Maybe next time, eh?"

* * *

"And he just cut it off! Like that!"

Foaly had asked Holly what was so important last night that Artemis had to hack into her home phone and secure the line (against him, obviously). Holly, after finishing her story with an eye-roll, was puzzled as to why the centaur's initial reaction was to laugh and whinny.

"What's so funny?" she growled, arms crossed.

_You cruel elf_. Foaly reached across the cafeteria table and patted Holly's arm, grinning.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Maybe next time he calls, eh?"

* * *

**Happened in real life. My cruel sister, who had liked this guy for... *counts* for five years, knowingly turned down his confession just this May. Probably making him suffer for liking her back only a year ago. She told me the story while laughing, thus making the bolts in my head go whoosh. Poor bloke.**

**Wrote and finished this just hours ago (in math class). **

**EDIT: I just realised that this counts as an embarrassing profession of love. Damn, damn, damn. I should've expanded this for Kit's contest! Aaaargh!**


	25. Bot

**Twenty-Five: Bot**

It was a typical visit from another genius in the Fowl Manor. The host, Artemis Fowl, and his guest, Minerva Paradizo, were enjoying a pleasant day outside on one of his house's many balconies, sipping tea like good old stereotypical Europeans and poring over their own separate studies. ("You know, one would think, with two genii together, we would be playing chess all day. How cliché.")

"You are—er—going out with the fairy officer, Miss Short, yes?" said Minerva when something caught her eyes on her laptop. "She's been having occasional week-long holidays aboveground, I've heard." And by that, she meant that she heard it from her gossip source, Butler.

Artemis, who sat across the table from her, momentarily glanced up before going back to his book, _On Turritopsis Nutricula_. "Yes," he replied. He did not care to elaborate.

"Aren't fairy lifespan longer? I mean…" Minerva pressed her lips together before pursuing her thought. "I mean, by the time you're sixty, she'd still be a healthy thirty-year-old, in human terms."

"Yes, I am aware _and_ working on that, as you can see." Artemis pointed on his book: "I'm researching on the immortal jellyfish."

"But what if—just say—it doesn't work? I can see where you're coming from, but this is all just theory, isn't it?"

"I'm sure I can find another way. I _am _a Fowl, after all."

Minerva smirked and laid back on her seat. "Well, even _you _might be interested on my idea."

The man did not reply but his eyes had frozen on one page of his book. It urged her to go on.

"HAL 5."

"Ah, yes." Artemis looked up, raising his eyebrows. "I know that. Hybrid Assistive Limb, though I fail to see how that could extend my lifespan. 'When a person attempts to move, nerve signals are sent from the brain to the muscles via motoneuron, moving the musculoskeletal system as a consequence,'" he recited the official description of the artificial-powered exoskeleton.

"In other words," said Minerva, grinning, "when you move, it moves _harder. _I'm quite positive Miss Short would appreciate this, as the common folks called it, Superhuman Endurance Sexbot." She tried to smother a giggle, but only half-succeeded. "It's main purpose, after all, is to help the _elderly _and _disabled _with their _daily_ task." By now, she could not speak, or even breathe properly, anymore.

Artemis began to redden as he hid himself in his book.

"I cannot believe I am having this discussion with _you_, Minerva," he said, almost groaning, which, he noticed, he was doing more often.

The Frenchwoman, if anything, only laughed harder.

* * *

**Lol, I also think what I did here is cliché (sipping tea and studying), but better than them playing chess all day. **

**HAL 5/"Superhuman Endurance Sexbot" suggested by ILiveForTheDay/ForeverDay.**

**Let me tell you guys that a plot bunny gnawing on your head, urging you to write, when you are feeling sick and terrible and awful on bed for more than a day, is just not at all pleasant. But I still wrote this, so give me reviews (and constructive criticisms)! They will help me get better!**


	26. Moment of Passion

**Guys, before you read on, watch this: **youtube watch?v=Icu3mLaqsdk. **I'm sure you'll love me for that.**

* * *

**Twenty-Six: Moment of Passion**

"You're wasting the LEP resources for _baby research_? Just what are you up to—planning to have a crunchball team with Caballine?"

Foaly's rapid fingers froze on his keyboard. He was so focused on his activity that he hadn't noticed Holly entering the OpBooth. His technicians didn't even bother to inform him, which they would regret on their payday. He swallowed dryly, very much wishing he hadn't finished his carrot a few minutes ago so that he could have something to chew on.

The elf stood by his flank, eyebrows raised.

There were two ways to respond at being caught in the act: either cover up what you were doing, which was rather like fighting a losing battle, or justify it, which had a higher success rate in history. Especially Fowl history. Foaly decided to go for the latter.

"Ah," he said, straightening up and tilting his head towards the other fairy casually. "It's for you actually. I'm being the nice best friend that I am, finding out ways to support you, healthwise, on whatever repercussion that may come up because of your 'moment of passion' with Artemis."

Holly looked confused. "What are you talking about? The only repercussion that'll come up is a good grilling from a higher-up as to why I didn't include that so-called 'passion' in my report, which I already have answers for—" She paused abruptly, and stared at the centaur as she came to a realisation.

_Baby research_.

Her eyes widened.

"How old are you, _thirty_?" she yelled, grabbing both sides of her head and then fisting them down to her sides. "I can't get bloody pregnant by a _kiss_!"

Foaly turned around to face Holly. His eyebrows were scrunched. "A kiss?" he said incredulously.

"Yes! A kiss!"

"… a kiss. So, the moment of passion… was just a kiss? Not, you know—"

"What?_ NO_!" Holly, following the centaur's train of thought, blanched and looked horrified. "You thought… me and Artemis… back in time…" she stuttered weakly, shaking her head. She brought a hand to her face, pressed the balls of her palm against her forehead, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Oh gods," she whispered. She looked up at the centaur and grimaced in disgust. "Oh _gods_. I'm going back to my office." Blinking several times, she turned back to the exit door and walked away numbly, leaving the centaur to stare at her retreating form.

* * *

**I knew it was inevitable that I'd write something about Foaly's (innuendo-filled) quote. It's been running in my head since yesterday.**


	27. Goods

**Twenty-Seven: Goods**

There was a calendar propped up on Artemis Fowl's desk. One box, one date, was encircled with a bright red marker. It was Captain Short's birthday. Today.

And so, Artemis, in less than a few minutes, set up a link to connect with the elf's communicator. A simple greeting was in order.

**Fowl-II**: Happy birthday, Captain.

**ReconJockD'arvitYeah**: Thanks, Artemis. :D

**Fowl-II**: Anything in particular that you might want for your birthday?

**Fowl-II**: I have a meeting with the Council later this afternoon for a small proposal. And I'm feeling a bit generous.

**ReconJockD'arvitYeah**: I've been addicted to naked goods lately. ;)

Artemis gawked at the screen, his eyes widening, and then gulped. He couldn't help but blush. Also, that emoticon. That _winking_ emoticon. What did it mean? _What did it mean_?

**Fowl-II**: Holly…

**ReconJockD'arvitYeah**: D'arvit!

**ReconJockD'arvitYeah**: _BAKED _goods. _BAKED_ goods.

**ReconJockD'arvitYeah**: *headdesk*

The genius nodded to himself. Baked goods. _Baked_.

**Fowl-II**: Yes, baked goods. I shall tell Butler then.

* * *

**Inspired by a comment in Buzznet.**


	28. Tails

**Twenty-Eight: Tails**

"This is boring," whined Holly for the nth time that night. "I wonder what time Juliet's gonna come home. You are boring."

The elf rolled onto her belly; she had been lying on Artemis's huge bed and staring at the frescoed ceiling for the last half an hour. She propped up two elbows in front of her and rested her chin between two palms. Right in front of her, sitting in the desk a couple of metres away, was her human friend, who had ignored her last comment. He knew himself that 'boring' was the last word someone would use to seriously describe him.

"What are you reading?" she asked, hoping it was something that would spark her interest.

Artemis looked up, two eyebrows raised. "Hmm? Oh. Well, to put it simply..." He tucked his forefinger between the pages as a mark and raised the thick book for Holly to see. "I'm cross-referencing known fairy tales with actual historical facts. It's an enjoyable pastime, actually."

Holly rolled her eyes. "You humans… honestly. Fairy tales are just plain ridiculous." She let her head fall face down. "I need to do something," she moaned into the duvet.

"I concur," said Artemis, putting his book down and inserting a bookmark on the page in place of his finger. "Fairy tales are flimsy and inferior in structure. I doubt they'd be able to satisfy you." He steepled his fingers and stared intently at the elf's sprawled figure on his bed. This made him smirk.

"Now, human _tails_, on the other hand," he continued, "have enough depth to _fit _your needs. Human tails will leave you much more… _filled_ than the fairy ones, wouldn't you agree?"

Holly looked up, with her elbows supporting her again. She had the expression which showed that she had understood his insinuations but was still a bit unsure if she was right. Her mouth silently formed the word "what" which went perfectly with her bewilderedly knitted brow. Artemis began to inspect his perfectly manicured nails, glancing at her occasionally with an innocent look.

"If you desperately want to eradicate this boredom you have unfortunately been plagued with, I can let you have some human tails. It would certainly make you do something."

He gave her a smile that made her feel the need to get up and get out of the room or else she might actually just do _something_. And these, she did—in a swift and quick manner too—with a feeble excuse of hearing Juliet arrive, which she was positive would fool no one, leaving Artemis in his room chuckling to himself.

* * *

**I have a request, guys. Please read (and review) my other fic 'Scorpius' for Kit's TBR Contest. **

**Reviews are ****_very _****nice. I'm going to sleep now and pray that when I wake up, there are review notifications in my inbox and that TAC would be available in my country. **


	29. Stoned

**Twenty-Nine: Stoned**

Everything passed through Holly's half-lidded eyes as slow as a hearse. The noise of the officers outside her cubicle was garbled and slurred as though passing through a thick plasma gel. She stared listlessly into space, not an ounce of energy within her enough to drag back her wandering mind to focus on the digipad she was aimlessly scrawling onto, something which Trouble would be complaining about tomorrow.

"This is _useless_," she muttered, letting her head drop onto her desk with a small thud.

Earlier that day, she had dropped off Artemis at Dr J. Argon's Clinic for a scheduled check-up. The complex was erratic somehow, so it was hard to determine whether he was progressing for better or for worse, making Holly feel anxious and worried. This was where Holly's mind had been all day.

Suddenly, the unintelligible murmurs surrounding her stopped to be replaced by footsteps too heavy for a fairy. The last step was instantly followed by a rap on her cubicle door.

"Holly?" came Artemis's voice.

The elf abruptly sat up. Artemis was not to be discharged until an hour more. Why was he in Police Plaza?

"Miss Holly?" he repeated in giddy tones, knocking again.

"What are you doing here, Orion?" Holly hollered, yanking the door open, and was met with a sight that made her jump a step back: a huge bulge that was somewhere around Orion's pelvic region, which was, only moments ago, an inch away from her face. A hand on her heaving chest, eyes wide, she dispelled words much colourful than a simple _d'arvit!_

Orion knelt and sat on his heels, slightly breathless. Holly noted Orion's dishevelled state that Artemis would have never allowed to happen unless they were saving the world. And that acceptance was hardly met with thanks and praise.

He smiled at her a goofy smile and looked down. On his lap, he unfolded the hem of his untucked shirt (much to his boorish alter's embarrassment), previously the bulge, to reveal a collection of colourful pebbles.

"Take one," he said, grinning. "I've searched far and wide for the greatest stones to offer you, Princess."

Holly eyed the stones sceptically. They looked like any other normal stone.

"Why?" she asked slowly. She was, of course, not as aware of Orion's magic stone obsession as the noble steed.

Averting his eyes like a child guilty of nicking a biscuit, he said, "It's a gift," which led to suspicion.

Neither spoke for a moment, and elf crossed her arms.

"All right!" Orion cried, raising an open palm in defeat. "All right, Princess, I give in! I cannot bear to deceive you anymore. I have heard that penguins have this courtship ritual: the male searches the kingdom for the greatest and most magical pebble of all and offers it to his betrothed, and then they are sealed forever as lovers. Such magic, such love..."

"Orion, it's a myth," said Holly almost exasperatedly. She felt a bit of sympathy when his face fell. How could this be Artemis? "It's partially true though."

Orion beamed. "Really?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, penguins build their nests with pebbles. And the 'courtship' happens while they build the nest."

For a while, Orion pondered this, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Miss Holly," he said at last, the title making the elf huff, "it would be my great honour to build a bivouac with—"

"_No_, Orion."

The boy's enthusiasm was instantly wiped off from his face.

Sighing, Holly briefly cupped his cheek in one hand and smiled up at him. "C'mon. Let me take you out for dinner, then back to the clinic. My shift ends in eight minutes."

* * *

**I had half of this written since October and only finished it tonight. Days without internet actually force me to write. Wow. I will probably update tomorrow (or the day after). No promises.**

**Reviews are nice to see in the morning. *hinthint* Goodnight.**


	30. Dance

**Many thanks to Pearl for looking over this.**

* * *

**Thirty: Dance**

Every full moon, just after the Ritual, fairies used to perform the traditional fairy folkdance, the ring dance, with their mate. It was a momentous dream for romantics and most couples. But after the Battle of Tailte, when the People were forced to hide underground, away from those who dwell in mud, the ring dance became a rare treat—thus more special and greatly coveted.

It had been one of your dreams.

* * *

Your face was that of Venus's as you spun round and round in that makeshift fairy ring of plushies and toy gadgetries. That tinkling laugh of yours—like the two chinking glasses of water we pretended to be sim wine—rung in my ears. I have always liked that sound. I blushed.

As I sat in the huge sofa, my toes barely brushing the carpet, I watched you execute a series of random steps almost entirely comprised of skipping and turning, and sometimes both. You'd get lost in your own dance, and for some time, you'd forget I was even there. I could see you seeing yourself on the surface, prancing under the moonlight with the elf you would spend your centuries with.

This made me scowl, and I don't know why.

* * *

I landed almost soundlessly, with only a dull thump under my boots, and, after a quick scan of the surrounding trees and shrubberies, I unravelled the camfoil from my body; shielding would destroy the flowers I brought. I set out for my personal mission. Foaly, of course, understood, so he didn't badger me about it that morning. If anything, today he made sure my schedule was clear and my visa approved.

Sunlight weaved in and out of the overhead canopy as I walked. I raised my head and let the light fall on my face. One glimpse and the brightness momentarily blinded me.

* * *

And you turned to me with a smile so bright I couldn't help returning it, albeit shyly. You skipped to be a bit closer and asked me breathlessly, "Did you like it?"

I stared into those huge hazel eyes; they were expectant and happy.

"Yes," I replied, honestly as always, and my smile tugged into a full grin.

"Come!" you chirped, grabbing both my hands and pulling me to stand. "I'll teach you the steps."

I felt electrified by your touch. You would teach me to dance... but you already taught me something else—something that made me understand that look Daddy always gave Mummy just before he'd kiss her after a long day's work.

* * *

Reaching a clearing, the wind whipped my face, as though I was flying with my visor up. I took a few more steps. To the spot under a huge oak tree. The remaining dew on the grass moistened my uniform when I knelt down. I set down the bouquet from my arm, muttering a prayer to the gods, and dug my right hand in my jacket for a thin box. A more special gift. I opened the top flap and gingerly pulled out a paper pinwheel. Aspen made it and repeatedly reminded me to bring it and stick it on the ground, which I did. It immediately began to spin with the strong breeze, so fast it was a blur of a blue circle.

Spinning.

Spinning...

* * *

The CD. I pretended to be fascinated. It was not a recent invention, but it was easy to pretend you were being hypnotised by it when your body was frozen with fear.

"I-I don't dance," I stammered.

You popped below my right shoulder, head bent, and peered up at me. You blinked confusedly and cried, "But dancing is fun!"

"I don't—I can't dance."

"I'll teach you!"

I risked a glance down again and found you still in that silly position, still peering up at me through those long eyelashes, and still, my cheeks felt warm.

In the end, I gave in and moved and swayed awkwardly with you like a robot. It was the most elating and unforgettable experience I ever had, and, suddenly, the thought of you dancing with an elf under the full moon did not upset me so much anymore.

* * *

"I wish—I wish I could've told you everything," I whispered, leaning on the tree trunk. _Before you met him... before you've gone for three years._ I slid down to the ground, feeling weak. The wind emphasised the coolness left by the moisture that fell from my eyes.

The thought of the possibility... I lied so many times, denied so many things. So many regrets, but this one was the worst. We could have been—I _knew_ we could have been something.

* * *

"Dead."

"_What_?"

"They're dead. The two of them."

"The Mud Man and—and..."

"Y-yes. They died heroes, sir."

"..."

"Commander, are you all right?"

* * *

Perhaps it was just me thinking it. No matter how much he hurt you, you always came back to him and never turned to me. You trusted him the most despite knowing he was not at all trustworthy. You broke so many laws—not just rules, but _laws_—for him, yet you couldn't have a day off to spend time with me.

You died for him.

You saved the world, fairies and humans, and died for each other. And with you, my dreams too.

"Aspen made that for you. Your son's becoming quite impressive with machines too, you know, even more so because of that centaur," I said to the wind, chuckling feebly. Even when talking to no one, I couldn't say it. _I miss you._

I could only replay our last dance in my mind. Painful, but I always do to dance with you.

* * *

**Initially an entry for Kit's TPG contest last December but it turned out very differently from what I originally planned. Also, this is not connected to any of my other fics, so.**

**Please review. Constructive criticisms are welcome.**


	31. Friendly Advice

**I took down the original 31st chapter as advised by a friend for editing, so in its place is this. **

******Oh, and I wrote a post-TLG one-shot "Madness Shared By Two" that I suggest you all read (and review!) because it is one of my more serious writing, and also it might tie up some loose ends Colfer left for us.**

* * *

**Thirty-One: Friendly Advice**

Minerva had been doing an experiment in her laboratory at home, which she traced to having relations with fairies. Thus, she persuaded her Irish friend to come with her to see it before they revealed it to the People.

They were in the lounge car in a train ride from UK to Paris, and Artemis Fowl was uncharacteristically talkative, being in the rare company of one who could understand his words without requesting him to either slow down or come down a few intellectual levels. He was discussing the Lamarckian properties of magical inheritance when Minerva interrupted him.

"Artemis, _mon ami_," she said, and Artemis paused to take a sip from his tea, "I am concerned."

He nodded, urging her to go on.

Minerva didn't know how else to drop it to him. "Are you two being safe?"

Artemis spluttered on his drink. _"_What?" Surely she was not talking about what he was thinking.

"You and the elf, Holly. You are being safe, _oui_?" The woman looked positively determined to express her thoughts. "As your friend, I am worried, especially with the fairy-human compatibility. You know safe methods, correct? And I cannot stress this enough: consent. Consent on her part, and on yours—"

Artemis's eyes widened in horror. "Minerva, who have you been talking to?"

"Why, Butler, of course. He does defy stereotype in terms of gossip with me. And, you know, Juliet, we are very close."

"How did they—"

Minerva smirked. "It was hard not to hear, they said."

* * *

**This is really just until here, because it's intended to be a tiny blog post. I gif'd this thing here "reconjockdarvityeah dot tumblr dot com/post/29198454838" with young Julie Delpy as Minerva. ****I ship Juliet/Minerva now, thanks to Chelsea (misandry5ever). Magical inheritance being Lamarckian is my friend Rein's theory.**

**Also, do you ever grow out of the phase you had two years ago? I realised that I don't hate Minerva at all, and that she has a lot of potential being science bros with Arty. BroTP.**

**I'm slightly active because we had a terribly heavy monsoon the past week, and classes were cancelled for four days that I was able to write fics. So yeah.**


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